Photo: Sue Vincent
He spent the day lying in the field. Waiting.
Eventually someone would miss him, or wonder about how come he is so late.
Eventually they will think of sending someone to check.
For the moment, all he could do was gaze up at the skies, his leg in an angle that no leg should be in, and his breath curtailed to the smallest gasps as to limit the stabbing pain that traveled through him – like a snake’s bite and a red-hot poker combined – if his lungs filled up enough to move the lower part of his torso. He’d never been more acutely aware of how all joints connect.
A marvel, really.
And a pain.
He almost laughed at his own joke only to remember the infinite well of torture that he’s been finding over the hours he’d been this way. There was no bottom. Only crests of agony he could know and not know of, ride and fall off of, let be and let go.
In the first hour after it happened he’d been angry at himself for the stupidity of attempting to leverage boulders that should not be attempted solo. The stick, not sturdy as he’d hoped, snapped in half, sending him to the ground in an way he could not reconstruct for the blinding nausea of torment that had ensued. He didn’t know what part of his leg it was that broke, or not exactly. Raising his head even just a little led to the world spinning and a blackness closing in, and not only from the clouds that seemed to gather.
He wasn’t angry anymore. There was nothing left in him to spare on blame.
The grayness above grew heavy. It would not be long before the rain.
He’d be miserable in the muddy wet.
It would also bring people faster. They would not expect him to misread the weather. They’ll question. They’ll come.
A drop tickled his nose and he suppressed a sneeze, almost crying with desperation to avoid more pain.
A call sounded, and for a fraction of a second his heart soared. But in the next, awareness filled in: it was not a human’s.
He opened his eyes to a quartet of geese flying overhead. Wings flapping asynchronously against a rising wind.
“Fly safe,” he mouthed, eyes overflowing with misery in spite of himself. They could move. He was jealous. He was helplessly alone.
More drops fell. Tears or rain, it did not matter.
He held on to the imprint of the silhouettes against the spitting heavens.
Soon, his family will realize he hadn’t come home. Soon they’ll wonder about it enough to worry where he was. They’ll send someone.
For the moment, all he could do was breathe, and hold in all the sobs, and let the pain wash over him like rainfall.
Hopefully they’ll find him soon enough. Beautifully written, Na’ama
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Thank you, Shweta! I hope they will! And soon!
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Acceptance of what is, hope for what might be… it keeps us going through the many hells we encounter.
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Indeed, very much so. And trust helps, too. If one trusts that help will come, one can hold on.
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The two go hand in hand.
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Yes, they very much do!
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Such a lovely, but sad story… a lesson learned the hard way will never be forgotten…
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Indeed, I don’t think he’ll ever forget that … nor would his family members, when they come and find him, hurt and alone. But, hopefully it will have a good ending!
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Somehow, I think it will!
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🙂
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That tears at the heart. And for how many people has this been a reality
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Thank you Crispina. Probably for all too many …It is one of the reasons I recommend for vulnerable people who live alone to have a “medical alarm” or some such to be able to summon help if they do fall. There is nothing sadder than a person who falls at home and dies alone because no one knew they’d fallen … and they cannot get to a phone. And some of this, at least, is preventable …
For this man, it seems he trust help will soon come, and I hope it does, quickly, now that it began to rain …
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Yea. My daughters nag me, I must take my phone out on my walks. I’m often several miles from habitation. But I admit I haven’t considered an injury at home. Though if I’m planning on anything potentially dangerous I do unlock me door!
But I’m not what’s classed as vulnerable.
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Yeah, I hear ya. I think it is a balancing act (sorry, had to …) to decide what is reasonable and what is to live in fear. Accidents can happen anywhere to anyone, but there are some things we can do (like, for example, taking a phone with us, for these days these things have GPS thingies on them that can help people find us if we’re hurt), and letting people know when we’re planning on cleaning the eaves of climbing into the attic … 😉
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Like showing your daughter how to read the map, so when a nut rolls beneath your foot while venturing down a steep former quarry and you take the rest of the way on your side and your butt, she doesn’t have to panic that you mightn’t be conscious and able to give the map reading
Don’t worry. I got up and brushed myself down and declared it an invigorating experience.
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LOL! Yeah, well … such ‘invigorating experiences’ are best experienced with a witness around who can (once they’re done gasping and fussing) help give a hand to haul one up off of their behind … 😉
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I heaved myself up. She did help brush me down. I was more concerned with the camera
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I hear ya. I think, once you can get up, one CAN be more concerned with the camera … But … I’m glad you were not badly hurt!
I slipped going down a slope once and fell on a rock so hard I concussed myself … Them things are UNYIELDING!
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Thanks. No nasty rocks. It was an gravel quarry, now well-grown over. And I had seen a fungus at its bottom. But the conkers had fallen… which had sent me tumbling… and I did have several circular bruises about my body
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Ouch. … Either way it does not sound like a lot of fun. I’m thinking that “getting in touch with our roots” does not need to be LITERAL … 😉
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Yea. I guess. Made me laugh. 🙂
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Laugh is good!
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Oh, don’t I know it. I do enjoy a good laugh
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Me three! 🙂
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Oh man! You have written this so evocatively I can almost feel his pain and despair yet hope that he will be found missing…
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Thanks, Dale! What great feedback! The BEST feedback … (key being the ‘almost’ because … I don’t want anyone to ACTUALLY feel the pain, but ‘almost feel his pain’ sounds perfectly rewarding to me as the writer … ;)). Yes, I think he’ll soon be found. He trust he would. I believe he would … Poor dude.
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Woot!!
No, I really and truly would not ever to know exactly how he felt..
Poor dude, for sure.
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Yeah. Sometimes fiction is better than life. Just saying … 😉
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Uh huh!
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🙂
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Na’ama, I was there with him in every word you wrote.
The story grew more intense as I continued to read.
I do wanted the sounds he heard to be someone looking for him.
A fabulous story of how our minds function during desperate hours.
Bravo!!!
Isadora😎
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Thank you, Isadora! I think the human condition resonate with all (okay, most …) of us, and I’m glad if I was able to capture some of it and put it into words.
Yay!
Na’ama
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What a great story, I was out there with him , willing him to hold onto the pain. The pain that is keeping him alive. I hope they find him soon. Oh! The tenuous fragility of life.💜
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Yes! Exactly! And … here’s to help in moments in need. Thank you!
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Yes indeed 💜
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🙂
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Thanks, Sue!
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